One Last Time
by peachberri
Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again? Rhett & Scarlett
1. Prologue

Oh, how I do so love Gone With The Wind. It's my current passion, so I decided why not write a story for this? Well, it's my first, and I hope you like it!

Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

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It had been four years since the unspeakable incident that had occurred in the ostentatious Butler home- two years wasted for chasing after a man whose affections for her had dissipated; the other two lost in the work of managing a growing farm called Tara. At thirty-two, Scarlett O'Hara lost every notion of the sweet, sassy southern belle she used to be so long ago, and the impudent misdemeanors of the past were replaced with a agreeable disposition and occasional outburst that displayed a fine mix of the O'Hara parents.

Magnolia-white skin that, many years ago, had been prized for its whiteness, under the supervision of mittens, parasols, and bonnets, was embellished with the deep lines that came from hard labor and anxiety on a beige face; a color that showed evidence of work, but the labor and exertion of the darkies. The delicate hands that dared not even work to put one's own clothes on were chapped and raw, embellished with calluses that slowly healed over time. Oh, but the eyes! the lusty eyes that once had a "passion for living"; that gleamed and sparkled like emeralds; the lustrous shine had dulled with her temper, and it was only the vibrant color of them that reminded everyone of the once passionate Scarlett O'Hara. The catty, impudent Southern belle had shed her airs over the months, and left after the desolate reunion with her husband was demure lady that whose occasional "Fiddle-dee-dees!" were a relish to hear.

But the storm is always calm before it hits, and on quiet nights, when the moon shines brightly through the bedroom window of Scarlett, the shadow of the belle wakes up from a dream that made her toss and turn. Her viridian eyes open in a fury, looking around wildly until her eyes catch the empty space next to her on the bed. And then she sighs, her walls weakening, and jokingly thinking Ellen isn't here to reprimand her, she sobs the night away, muffling the hiccupping cries into her pillow. Such was not an uncommon sight for Scarlett O'Hara, and anyone who had the audacity to open the door could see her at her most vulnerable state.

And such a night was today, in a lazy, moon-lit night of June where cicadas hum so melodically and mosquitoes fly brazenly through open windows and bite mercilessly. Her dream had been the one she had always dreamed: Of the impossible fog that always blocked her way, the cold, chill nighttime air and unfamiliar terrain her eyes wildly darted to look at; there was never an end, and she always ran, stumbling, falling, and the pain felt so real she couldn't believe there were no cuts on her legs the following morning.

Sometimes she found the end- and she ran wildly through the mist, grabbing at it, and spoke passionately to it, voice crying out in relief and a joy she hadn't felt in so long. But it always said the same thing to her: _"My dear, I don't give a damn."_ And she could see him leaving her, walking more and more into the mist until all she had was a faint memory. "No- no- no!" Her voice cracked as she fell to the ground, reaching for him. She was screaming in a language she did not know, with a fury she feared, and a pain in her heart that ripped her pieces.

And then she awoke; she always did- with her heart beating to a crazy rhythm that made Scarlett fear for her life. Her bosom heaved in her beige camisole, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. Chartreuse eyes fluttered under long lashes to wake, and a low groan came from the mouth of Scarlett O'Hara. "Oh," she moaned, eyes now open wide as it stared at the darkness of her room. "Oh, why- I was such a fool!" She spat quietly, and sat up on her bed, gathering the pillow into her arms as she hugged it tightly. "I'm the cad, the scoundrel, the- the skunk! How could I be so daft to not see- oh!" She buried her head into the pillow and sighed in discontent. "Oh, Rhett, how I still love you so." The words were spoken so tenderly, each caressed to show the ardent passion she still had for her lost lover.

Pain struck her heart, and a forlorn look cast onto her face. "You once said you could rip me to shreds with your hands," Scarlett spoke dejectedly into the empty room, and gave a soft laugh. "How I wish you could do so now!" She spat vehemently. Silence strung the few minutes into hours, and Scarlett rested her head on the oak headboard of the bed. Softly, words bubbled up to her mouth, "But- oh, if only I could have a second chance with you, Rhett! If only I were sixteen again and I didn't do such brazen things. I would be so good to you, so good-!" A soft sigh escaped her mouth as the words escaped in quiet murmurs, strong in conviction. "I'd do anything."

"Do you mean that?" The voice spoken was not the deep, coarse one with the faint twinge of amusement and mockery she longed to hear. It was one that resonated through an infinite-ness of time and space, and which a single word could describe, one at the tip of her tongue, but couldn't grasp.

"Who- who are you?" Scarlett cried out, and grabbed the bed sheets around her, pulling them up high. Her eyes danced rapidly around her, trying to spot the vulgar criminal that dared enter her room. "Why are you in my room?"

The voice spoke again, "Don't ask questions, child- just answer mine." Scarlett bit her cheek, and it kept all her willpower to lash out at the voice, declaring that she most certainly was not a child- the one thing she detested herself for being the past years. "Did you mean what you said?"

Stiffly, she answered, "Yes." And softening, she added quietly, "I don't want anything else in the world but to have another chance with him."

"Then so be it." It was a declaration- official and stamped to show all its integrity and importance. Bewilderment came over Scarlett over the finality of the tone. Was she really going to go back in time to when she was an impudent wench to start over with Rhett? Or was this another one of her ridiculous dreams? Vaguely, she felt the presence of the voice disappear, and Scarlett felt the room quite empty and she very alone. Deciding to think no more of the voice, concluding it was no more than some sort of hallucination, she told herself she would "think about it tomorrow" and getting comfortably under the covers, she fell asleep. "Tomorrow, like you wished, you will be sixteen again. Use this chance wisely. She's watching you from above."

It was the last thing she heard of the voice until she woke up the next morning. And much to her surprise, she was indeed sixteen again.

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Well, that's the end of Chapter 1! And for those that need clarification:

1873-1875 (Scarlett age: 28-30): Pursues after Rhett. Sometime in 1875, she gives up and goes back to Tara.

1875-1877 (Scarlett age: 30-32): Becomes owner of Tara and such.

June 1877: Scarlett is confronted by the Voice.

Please review!


	2. Sleeping Beauty Awakes!

Thank you so much for the reviews! :) Just keep them coming! ;D

**EugeniaVictoria:** (Wait- that's Bonnie's name, right?) Thank you! Well, from my point of view, as stated in Gone With The Wind, Scarlett was never that beautiful, and it was her charm that pulled it off. So with the charm lost, hard work with Tara, and the loss of Rhett, she became, well, un-beautified. But I do love imagining Scarlett as a belle forever, so, yeah. :)

**Animagus-Steph:** Potential to be intriguing? Oh, yay! I hope this is a regular basis, by the way. I'll try to update once a week.

**Lady M. Blakeney:** Oh, really?! Thank you so much!

**Michelle:** Thank you for the review!

**CaptScarlett:** I suppose that is the conflict of this story then. How does she become that vivacious sixteen year old again? *sighs* But I'll try to be as realistic and creative as I can- promise!

**FranklyMyDear28:** Oh, thank you so much! I love your pen name by the way; I laughed out loud when I read it.

**spottedhorse:** Why, thank you! I hope this chapter will be just as intriguing.

**Hepzibah Smith:** Well, chapter two is right down there, so I've accomplished getting past the first chapter! And thank you for the compliments!

**BrokenWitch:** My, what a coincidence! I do want to make Scarlett a strong character, but I think she'll have to get weepy when she sees her parents and Mammy, at least. I'll try to make her un-weepy as possible, though.

**Nivnami:** Thank you so much!

**PrincessAlicia:** Thank you- let's hope this chapter captures your interest as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone With The Wind.

Overall Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

Prologue: Thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from a horrid nightmare that reminds her of her lost lover. Crying, she says she wishes to be sixteen again to be a better wife to Rhett Butler, her one love. A majestic and powerful voice promises her that when she wakes up the next day, she will be sixteen. And now, Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from her slumber...

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There were two things amiss as Scarlett O'Hara awoke the next morning sharply at six-thirty. Firstly, the weather was much too nice to be June; second: this was most definitely not her room. As her green eyes cracked open, fluttering awake to the inner signals in her body that it was time to get up, the first thing that caught her eye was the luxurious, crème canopy drapery, with rich, cherry wood columns as the posts. Her first notion was that there actually was a scalawag in her bedroom last night that had kidnapped her and put her in a fine hotel room after ravishing her. At the ripe age of thirty-two, such a situation was highly improbable, not to mention crude, and Scarlett's cheeks burned red at such a preposterous thought. Now where had that silly idea come from?

Puzzled at the change of scenery, she removed the elaborate and plush covers from her body, and was startled once more. No longer was she donned in a plain, beige camisole, but a frivolous rose-colored one that put Scarlett to shame she would wear such a thing at an old age. The room was cool with an atmosphere of spring, and a window showed a towering tree bearing yellow flowers. Scarlett stopped for a moment, staring curiously at the scene outside. Why, just yesterday she had seen that tree and its leaves were all green! An epiphany occurred in Scarlett's mind as she ran for the vanity mirror next to the canopy bed; her cry was one of pure utter shock.

"Oh- oh my-!" Scarlett took in a sharp breath as her eyes caught her reflection. She was indeed sixteen again, and every impression of the gorgeous Southern belle whose beauty, charm, and seventeen-inch waist was envied throughout the County. Reluctantly, her hand reached for the mirror, as if one touch could sweep her back to the early June morning of 1877. Her fingers felt the cool and smooth surface of the vanity mirror, and Scarlett's green eyes widened at the whiteness of her hands. "I-I really am sixteen again," she said dumbfounded to the reflection, and it mirrored every bit of the perplexity that showed on her young and vivacious face.

Faintly, her ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps along a wooden floor; Scarlett gave out a cry of happiness at the familiarity of the sound. It was Mammy! dear, sweet Mammy that had died of old age only a year ago! Scarlett remembered the day so clearly- March, with a heavy spring rain that fell down, and she had cursed that such melancholy weather added to her forlorn mood. Mammy had been lying down in her bed, deep lines crinkling on a swarthy, bronze skin. "Come 'ere, chile," Mammy had said to Scarlett as she appeared in the door way, in a voice much too soft and quiet for the chiding elder, "Mah lam', oh, honey, Ah think Ah gotta go soon."

"Now, hush, Mammy! Don't you dare say that again! You're not going anywhere, you hear? You're going to stay in bed until you get better again!" Scarlett had scolded, grasping the large, callused hands of her Mammy, tears brimming her green eyes.

"Chile, dun' you go cryin' fur dis ol' darkie. And Ah may be getting' ol', but you dun' go and chide me, chile! Now you wipe yo' tears, lam', and stay 'ere wid me 'till Ah go."

Scarlett nodded, and bit her cheek to keep herself from crying out, cries of pain and adamantly refusing to believe her Mammy was going to die, and held the dark hands in her own. How could her Mammy ever die? A woman as she was, Scarlett held onto a childish notion deep down that there were four people in the world that seemed immortal: her parents, Melanie Wilkes, and Mammy. But with the first three dead, and with Mammy her only security to believe in this idea, she hoped to God Mammy wouldn't die.

Scarlett grew no more religious over time than her sixteen year old self had, though she did make the occasional prayer to His Almighty Above when times were hard or Careen, who really did become a nun, advised her to. But now was a time of crisis, and she poured out her soul to whoever may be listening to above as she clutched the rosary necklace around her neck, praying with fervor that Mammy would be spared from His Almighty clutches and allowed to live. Mammy passed away the next morning, when Scarlett awoke, body in an uncomfortable crouched position over the bed, one hand holding the necklace, the other clutching Mammy's, and let out a cry of pain as she heard no breath from Mammy.

There was no immortality left, and Scarlett had grown quieter the next months, green eyes downcast and duller than usual. The funeral took place a few days later, Mammy dressed in the red petticoat that Rhett had given her, though Scarlett cursed him an eternity to hell for not daring to show up. But he did come, far away from the dull yet searching green eyes of Scarlett, and he made a graceful bow to Mammy, no mock in the gesture at all, and left. If anyone had the audacity to look in the coal black eyes of his, they would agree and say they looked just like Scarlett O'Hara's.

But now nice it was to be sixteen again, and all the deaths behind her, with none of the pain ever existing, and everyone whom she loved didn't have the faintest inkling of the treacherous deeds she had done! Scarlett threw open the ivory door of her bedroom and rushed down the plush, carpeted stairways, barefoot, ebony hair flying wildly behind her. Malachite eyes caught sight of the large, swart woman who was muttering under her breath. Oh, how she had missed that rich, honey-like voice! "Mammy! Mammy!" Scarlett cried, tears brimming to her eyes, and the elder darkie turned around in surprise at the sight of her lamb running to her in such a early morning.

"Chile! Wut you up to runnin' 'bout so early?" Mammy scolded as Scarlett embraced the darkie, burrowing her head in the elder's bosom. Brown eyes softened at the weakened state of the eldest O'Hara daughter, and with a worried tone, "Chile, wut's wrong? Come an' tell yo' Mammy."

Her green eyes sparkled with the slightest hint of a vivaciousness Scarlett hadn't felt in such a long time, and she laughed softly as she lifted her head up to look at her Mammy. "Nothing, Mammy, it's all right now," Scarlett said, taking in the smooth bronze skin and reprimanding, yet curiosity of the brown eyes. An idea sparked in Scarlett, and she talked rapidly with emotion, "Mammy, is Mother up yet? I need to see her so badly, Mammy!"

"Miss Ellen's jus wakin' up, chile. Now wut you gotter see 'er- Scarlett! Dun you go runnin' aroun' now! Chile!" And Mammy sighed with a reprimand in the breath- short and huffy-, "Dat chile- Miss Ellen and Ah try an' try, an' look at wut 'appen! Rosa! You come 'ere!"

Scarlett's mind was focused on only one thing as she ran down the hallway, past the elegant paintings and exquisite vases the Yankees had taken so long ago from the beloved O'Hara home: her mother. Her arrival at Tara missed her mother's death by only a day, and death or not, though she would've preferred the not, Scarlett hadn't seen her mother in so long. "Mother! Mother!" She cried at the bedroom door, and realizing the early hour of the morning, she quieted her voice, "Mother, may I come in?"

The door opened, and the regal Ellen O'Hara appeared at the doorway, eyes widened ever so slightly at the appearance of her daughter. Scarlett had never been so happy to see her mother again, alive and well, no accursed typhoid to ever endanger her health. Green eyes brimmed with salty tears that threatened to fall once more, in a happiness so pure and genuine- an emotion Scarlett had not felt in so long. Luxurious black hair was put in a simple net at the back of her head, which tilted backwards ever so slightly from the weight. Oh, and the calm, unsettling peace of her mother's dark eyes. So many things Scarlett had missed and remembered, and a smile gave through her quivering mouth.

Ellen's voice, as it always had been, was soft, but laced with a mother's worry, "Scarlett, darling, why are you crying?" And in that sentence, the faintest hint of surprise could be heard to the analytic and sensitive ear. The eldest O'Hara daughter was a strong one, vivacious with a passion for life, and Ellen, nor anyone, rarely caught Scarlett in anything more than a deep-pouted scowl- and that usually was from adamant refusal of Scarlett's materialistic wants. So to see her daughter, who was established as the liveliest one of them all, expected never to be seen with tears brimming her lovely green eyes- it came to Ellen nothing short of shock; though, in Ellen's part, well-concealed shock. "What's the matter, dear?"

And what was even more peculiar, more perplexing than the sight of Scarlett far past the verge of tears- they were rolling down her magnolia-white cheeks as Scarlett bit on her lips to keep them from trembling- were her eyes. Oh, the gorgeous eyes that sparkled with a lust for life and everything around it; alert eyes that seemed to have a life of its own, charming men and women with its zest and color. When Ellen caught sight of Scarlett's eyes, they no longer looked like ones that belonged to a pampered sixteen year old belle. No; these eyes looked tired, with a wisdom far beyond her daughter's young age; eyes that belonged to a woman that went through so much- fallen, been beaten, bruised, but got up again anyway; these eyes gave Ellen a peculiar sense of respect to Scarlett, and there was one more emotion she saw in them: relief.

Relief that there was someone up there that could take care of her again, someone bigger and stronger than her, and the burdens on her shoulders can be lifted for a brief moment. Startled, Ellen wrapped her arms around her daughter, and Scarlett happily buried her face into her mother's bosom. She and her mother would never be the same age, Scarlett realized in her mother's warm embrace, though technically they were. In her mother was a strength so well-cultivated over the years, that she knew without a doubt it could not be beaten or broken. Scarlett sighed, and everything was all right for a moment, and Ellen carried her burdens without even a flinch during that time.

Scarlett pulled back eventually, though the look of a worn out woman did not leave her eyes. "Scarlett, are you all right?" Her mother asked, and reluctantly, a nimble hand raised to touch her daughter's forehead, though Ellen knew very well that was not the problem. It was cool, like she predicted, and she reached out to give Scarlett another embrace. So small and frail her daughter seemed, yet so strong. It was a curious mix of emotion Ellen felt, and her dark brows furrowed lightly in worry.

"I'm all right now, Mother," Scarlett said quietly, in a voice that assured its meaning despite the volume. Ellen pulled her daughter back to cup her chin with her hands. Despite what Scarlett thought, Ellen knew very well how unladylike her daughter could be, and it made her a trifle amused to see her daughter act her best in front of her. Yet, in times like those, she could pick out in Scarlett the hard work put in to be in the best of her vivacious behavior. But now, there was no acting, and Scarlett held every concept of the lady Ellen truly wished her to be.

"If you say so, darling," Ellen said softly, and patted Scarlett's head before placing a light kiss on her forehead. "Scarlett, I advise you to go back to bed now. The barbecue is hours away and a lady should never appear tired before an audience." Then, with the grace of a swan and delicate steps that prove quieter than a mouse, Ellen entered the door of the kitchen, which bustled in the early morning with darkies. With her mother out of sight, Scarlett gave out a long, troubled sigh. Of all days to wake up to, she had to turn sixteen on the day of the barbecue of Twelve Oaks.

And with the same regal, yet humble, air and grace of her mother, she walked swiftly down the carpeted hallway and up the cherry wood stairs, hand lightly holding the elegantly engraved banister. Twelve Oaks, she thought bitterly and entered her luxurious bedroom. The barbecue was the beginning of a twisted love story that provided no satisfaction to anyone when it had ended with her tears and pain. How could she bear to see everyone again when all her wrongs came bubbling to the surface of her mind? "Perhaps this is my punishment for such a tactless wish," Scarlett muttered, and she collapsed down on her bed, mind gathering the resurfacing memories of a barbecue sixteen years ago...

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Okay, well, that's it for Chapter 2. I think I'll try to make the chapters short, but update around once a week so I don't keel you over reading long passages, and me with writing them. Any mistakes with the chapter please notify me, and...yeah, I think that's about it.

Please review! :)


	3. Love Begets Woe

Okay- so for the reviews, I think I'll try something different this time. I'll just be naming you all reviewers and answering your questions/comments in my own paragraph thing where I can just talk freely on topics I want and such. So hugs and kisses to **FranklyMyDear28, ****KattieScarlet, ****BlaqueCat13, ****Scarlett Jaimie****, EugeniaVictoria, ****PrincessAlicia, ceciilee, Jayann, SparrowsFlight, uncommon, gally619, dorme99, and Michelle** for taking their time to give this story a review! Thanks so much!

Few of you mentioned the Twelve Oaks barbecue which is where she first meets Rhett. Ohmygosh. That part gives me the biggest heebiejeebies. There's just so much pressure to make it perfect, realistic, and give it that GWTW magic. And then there's the library scene, which is one of the biggest Scarlett&&Rhett moments in the book. Arghhhhhhh. I might pull my hair out. Stress. Stress. Stress. So I'll try my best to meet all your expectations- and mine as well. :)

And yes, she will be playing hard to get. Most definitely. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone With The Wind.

Overall Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

Prologue: Thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from a horrid nightmare that reminds her of her lost lover. Crying, she says she wishes to be sixteen again to be a better wife to Rhett Butler, her one love. A majestic and powerful voice promises her that when she wakes up the next day, she will be sixteen. And now, Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from her slumber...

Chapter One: After reuniting with her once deceased Mammy and Ellen O'Hara, Scarlett is comforted by her mother's embrace, who does not fail to notice the tired and worn out look of her lively daughter. Her mother reminds her today is the Twelve Oaks barbecue and Scarlett goes back to her room to remember the day that started her wretched love story...

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How long has it been, Scarlett vaguely wondered as she lay on her bed, ebony locks spread out behind her like a fan. She closed her eyes, long lashes that fringed her green eyes faintly tickling her skin. It had been a beautiful April day, Scarlett recalled, and the faintest hints of summer lay in her bedroom through the window; when she inhaled, she could almost smell the aromatic scents of the bloomed flora. She woke earlier than usual that day, and Scarlett crinkled her brows in an effort to recall.

The dress- what dress did she wear? And with a startling recollection did she remember the low cut green sprigged muslin that her Mammy had so disapproved of. A tinkling laugh escaped Scarlett at her impudent attitude; she remembered strongly she refused to wear her green plaid taffeta because of the evident grease strain that would be easily hidden with a brooch, but not worn in case of Melanie's quick, wary eyes. Oh, how insolent Scarlett had been to dear, Melanie Hamilton Wilkes back then!

The very name brought a wrench of pain and utter joy to her heart. So pitiful was Melanie's death- in the birth of her lovely, deceased child. Melanie knew very well the consequences of the birth, but participated in it anyways to see the joy on Ashley's face. Ashley. Oh, how those names wrung her heart so! And what a forlorn, shell of a man he was in 1877! Scarlett kept her promise with Melly, and took care of Ashley as well as she could, though her heart weakened to see him so desolate.

Her eyes watered with tears at the thought of seeing Melanie again. Dear, sweet, generous Melanie- how could she have ever thought such a horrid thing about her? Scarlett would treat her with the love and care she so highly deserved! And Ashley, oh, how she had hurt him so by interfering with his marriage with Melanie! How audacious of her to even go up and confess her love to him; and even kiss him when he was clearly devoted to his wife! It made Scarlett's heart break with guilt.

But there was more- so much to remember, so much for her heart to experience again. And then a vision made her jump up with startle, her green eyes wide at the memory. She remembered distinctly the tiny china rose-bowl so close beside her, and she felt her anger pulsating through the reminiscence as she picked it up, hurling at the fireplace. Then:

_"This is too much." _It was a voice that belonged only in her memory, yet sounded as clear with all the mockery and amusement as if he were in this very room. She remembered every single thing about him that day, from the impertinent look he had given her at their first meeting to the laugh he had as he sank back down to the sofa, with her slamming the library door behind her. And, oh, there was so much she remembered, and so much she wanted to forget.

Her love for Rhett was now an unrequited love- passionate and devoted, yet fearful and timid. Passionate with a fervor for a man she felt only for him, the only true love she had and lost; devoted because she never felt so for another, and knew he was the only one that would complete her existence. Yet, all the same, fearful for all the lies and mockery that came from his mouth; timid in front of the red brimmed eyes and overwhelming stench of alcohol that lead to unwanted matters. She wasted two years of her time chasing after him to England, spending her hard earned money that was meant for the welfare of her children and Tara. Then finally, she met him, after months of searching so hard, and-

Her heart burned with a pain she had never knew, and her mouth let out a gasp of agony. "No," she thought, bringing a hand up her heaving bosom, "I'll think about that tomorrow- when I can." But despite all that had happened, her fervent love lasted through the years, and her pain grew only the more intense. One night she had woken up from that dream, and she let out a mirthless laugh- harsh even to her own ears. She had finally known what sort of anguish Rhett must have felt through all his years of loving her. Bitter tears had run down her cheeks, and she faintly understood how a love could fade away over time. She had only hoped time would be merciful to her to end it soon.

Though now, as her woeful gasps gave way to a calm, steady breath, Scarlett realized, sadly, that her love may be a pertinacious love, and it would be a part of her-no matter how big or small that part may be- for the rest of her life. "Oh, how I love that detestable scoundrel." And the last two were spoken with tender affection, a small smile spreading across Scarlett's features. So this was her second chance- to live with shame on her past misdemeanors and pretend like the inevitable future outcomes never happened or never will happen.

Scarlett tossed her head defiantly, black locks dancing with her. Never! She would never let her mother, father, Mammy, and, heavens above, Melanie go to the clutches of death. But that was so far off in the future, in years and years to come, and Scarlett had to first deal with her predicament of Twelve Oaks.

There, she was surely going to see Rhett Butler, whether she liked it or not. Though, the answer to that was unmistakable: she would love to see him again, meeting as though it was their first time! Scarlett knew she had to be as vivacious as her insolent Southern belle self had been long ago, but that vivaciousness was lost over time, and she wondered as to how to get it back. As well as that, she knew her first impression on him had to be more than charm, intellect, ethics, or beauty. No; he told her once that he had seen woman with far more of these four qualities than her, but it was her face he remembered all the same; or, rather, her liveliness.

Scarlett was a exceptional actor, though with the exception of Rhett, who saw through her as if she were clear as spring water. Her lies were only undetected once, and even at that time, he only realized them after he had seen her callused hands; she had him wrapped around her finger quite nicely, though, failure aside. How easily she had hidden her sadness and anger with the smiles and well-practiced facial expressions taught to her by her mother and Mammy.

Scarlett remembered her impish self with a clarity she would rather not have. But it came with a usefulness, she realized, and thanked whatever sense her mind had to store all her impudence to be taken out and studied. She got up from the bed to make way to the vanity mirror again, studying her face.

With dismay, she saw the green eyes were no longer the sparkling gems they used to be. Happiness! Life! She had to find it quickly for time was running out! And with a quick, sharp breath, she realized was only one thing that could make her into the coquettish vixen again: Rhett Butler. Her mind tried to form that fact into a solution, and she felt her thoughts her a jumbled mess of possibilities and ideas. Placing two hands on her head, ruffling her black hair, her mind slowly cooled down, and a crude answer was clearly displayed in her mind. "It's rather simple, but that only proves its ability to dysfunction," Scarlett thought, "I only have to imagine Rhett in my head all the time to be lively again. And I suppose I have to pretend to be in love with Ashley Wilkes too- being hard to get was another notion why Rhett wanted me so badly. I suppose I was a real challenge to him, wasn't I?" Sighing, she felt herself grow exasperated.

"But it never was going to be easy, was it?" she chided herself mentally, "And this is what I've wanted for so long, isn't it? I only have to pretend to love Ashley Wilkes. Why, I could even pretend it's Rhett I'm with!" And she laughed at the irony of it all: years ago, when she was Mrs. Butler, and Rhett her husband, how many times did she wish it were Ashley Wilkes holding her so? "I'm thirty-two, and I've been through so much," she thought, touching the mirror with her hand, fingers trailing down on its cool surface, "But I've got to try hard to be sixteen again. I won't lost Rhett this time!" With determination flowing through her veins, she began practicing the Southern belle charm in front of her mirror. There were only four hours until the barbecue and Scarlett O'Hara was resolute in becoming sixteen again.

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Well, I think that's it for Chapter 2. I'm trying to make this story as realistic as possible, so if you see any flaws in Scarlett's or Rhett's or whoever else is in the novel, please notify me so I can correct them.

Oh, and basically, thirty minutes passed since Scarlett woke up. It would be around seven in the morning. The barbecue (I really don't know what time it starts) will start at eleven o'clock in the morning.

Review, please! :)


	4. Dress Up Dolls

Oh my gosh. I was not expecting this- this downpour of reviews. I can't stop smiling now. Arghh! :) Thank you, thank you so much to all that reviewed: **FranklyMyDear28, PrincessAlicia, EugeniaVictoria, ScarlettJaimie, Ralph-de-Bricassart-fan, BlaqueCat13, Michelle, Merovia, ceciilee, edward-mountain-is-so-real, ****Jayann, SassiAni, gally619, and CaptScarlett.** Seriously, thank you so much- for all the comments on the story, my writing, Scarlett, the tips and pointers, etc.- just thank you.

Yes, I really am thirteen. And thank you, Princess Alicia, for pointing out that big word predicament I had. Honestly, I do admit, I did go to some dictionary online website and look for complicated synonyms. But this was only because I thought my vocabulary was too restricted and childish. Though, I will tone down the, uhh, big word thing.

Ralph-de-Bricassart-fan, thank you for the book suggestion. I happen to be going to Barnes&Nobles soon, hopefully next Sunday, (if my parents don't try to wheedle me out of it) and I will look for it- as well as all the other GWTW sequels. :)

Thank you, BlaqueCat13, for pointing out my error. I just learned something new today...And yes, it does seem like MM has a fancy for torturing her characters. But I'm glad she didn't make the ending so...uhh...permanent. There's so many possibilities to Scarlett's and Rhett's story.

Michelle, your review just lifted the burdens right off my shoulders. It really just gave me comfort. Thank you.

This is book-centric, btw. I have yet to watch the movie. :)

And, I just have to say this, I happen to love the pen name **edward-mountain-is-so-real**. If I come across some pen name that I happen to find funny, I'll just be posting them here...

So now, with all my talking done, I present to you:

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone With The Wind.

Overall Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

Prologue: Thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from a horrid nightmare that reminds her of her lost lover. Crying, she says she wishes to be sixteen again to be a better wife to Rhett Butler, her one love. A majestic and powerful voice promises her that when she wakes up the next day, she will be sixteen. And now, Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from her slumber...

Chapter One: After reuniting with her once deceased Mammy and Ellen O'Hara, Scarlett is comforted by her mother's embrace, who does not fail to notice the tired and worn out look of her lively daughter. Her mother reminds her today is the Twelve Oaks barbecue and Scarlett goes back to her room to remember the day that started her wretched love story...

Chapter Two: In her bedroom, Scarlett reminisces on Twelve Oaks, and remembers three people who she loves very much, though each in a different manner. She realizes she is no longer a vivacious belle who captured Rhett's heart, and is set to become one before the barbecue. But will it work?

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Her smiles really were charming, with a dimple placed beautifully on each side. She could bite her lips to make them look alluringly red and pinch her cheeks to become that natural rose on her skin. Oh, but her eyes! she had found the correct secret to make them sparkle so brightly. Only one single thought of Rhett Butler, the charming cad of a man who swept her off her feet, and her heart would be a flurry, and her eyes shone with an excitement she had never seen before. But she mustn't look like she was in love. She could, when around Ashley, because her false amour for him was needed to appeal to Rhett's attention.

Guilt stabbed her heart when she thought of Melanie; kind, affable Melanie who never had a thought for herself, and the world for others. A sixteen year old thought popped up to her mind: "Why, what Melly doesn't know won't hurt her! And that silly old goose has no more sense than a blind bat! She'd never think of me liking her darling Ashley!" Ashamed at such a thought, yet the tiniest joyful that her mind was thinking like back then, she chided herself for her nastiness. Though, it was true; Melanie wouldn't even suspect that Scarlett would be in love with Ashley.

On her bed was a apple-green, watered-silk ball dress with festoons of ecru lace, which she so fondly looked at before one of the darkies placed it neatly in a large cardboard box. It was going to be carried to Twelve Oaks to be worn before the ball began. Right now, she sat on top of her bed, in lace pantalets, linen corset cover, and three billowing lace and linen petticoats. She remembered, with amusement, that she had gone through all her dresses to see which one would best make her irresistible to Ashley Wilkes. It was her wise decision to wear her green plaid taffeta, with its flounces, each one edged in green velvet ribbon. She distinctly recalled how it made her eyes darken to a rich, emerald hue.

A brooch was chosen to be placed over the grease spot. On her bed as well was the sprigged green muslin dress she had worn "yesterday" while talking with the Tarleton twins. Her eyes twinkled with excitement to see them again. Perhaps it was not only Rhett Butler that brought the spark in her eyes. The thought of seeing everyone she had missed for so long did enthuse her greatly. Or was it the slow, Southern charm of the days that passed by so lazily that both Ashley and Rhett talked about so longingly? The easy-going, never-ending days that were Scarlett's childhood- yes, that was a part of it as well. Nevertheless, as Scarlett realized how much easier it might be to be vivacious again, she let out a sigh of relief and stared contently at the two barbecue dresses laid down on her bed.

Of course, she had to wear the green plaid taffeta- it was only respectable to be seen in it than her sprigged muslin one. She had forgotten how many dresses she had owned, and with delight, as she opened her closet, tried on everyone of them. How nice it was to be rich again, she had thought. Ah, but should she wear the bosom bearing dress she had worn last time? Oh, how unladylike it would be! But Rhett said he never held any charm for ladies, now did he. Though the green plaid taffeta showed the best of her beauty than the-

Scarlett's eyes widened at her train of thought, and laughed. Why, she sounded like a silly schoolgirl with a crush! But perhaps that's how Rhett made her feel: young and alive. She was smiling, and she felt utterly ridiculous at it, but loved it at the same time. "Miss Scarlett, Ah got yo' food righ' hyah!" Mammy came in, holding in her large, brown hands a tray of food, and Scarlett suddenly remembered The Rule: everything on that tray is to be eaten before any of the girls went to a barbecue.

"All right, Mammy, bring it to me," Scarlett called, and Mammy, eyes looked sharp with suspicion, for there never was a morning before a barbecue passed when Scarlett refused to eat. Scarlett pointed to the more respectable of the two dresses on her bed and Mammy nodded in approval. The bronze elder picked up the green plaid taffeta, carefully dropping the fifteen yards of it over the heap of petticoats, and hooked it up on the back of the low-cut basque. Her bombazine was set to eighteen inches, as was the circumference of the waist of the dress. Mammy stared proudly at her lamb; what a small, feminine waist that was! And Suellen didn 't even go past twenty inches before fainting! But an instructive, stern looked passed over Mammy's eyes as she caught sight of the sunlight billowing into the room.

"You 'member to keep yo' shawl on yo' shoulders w'en you is in de sun. And doan go takin' yo' hat off w'en you is wahm, else you be comin' home brown lak Ole Miz Slattery," Mammy warned, waggling her finger at Scarlett, and the girl nodded. How prized were the Southern woman for their magnolia-white skin, and what efforts they go through to keep it, she mused with recollection of the parasols, hats, and mittens. "Now you eat slow, honey; no sense eatin' it w'en it come right up agin."

Scarlett sat behind the tray, and as Mammy tied a large towel around her neck, spreading it across her lap, she picked up a fork to dig into the yams covered with butter. Mammy's brown eyes crinkled at the corners, her brows narrowing; now why is Miss Scarlett so quiet all of a sudden? Perhaps it was the betrothal of Ashley Wilkes to Melanie Hamilton, Mammy contemplated. But whatever it was, it did no good to make her lamb so sad.

"Chile, why you so quiet? Wut's da matter? Is it Mist' Ashley agin?" Mammy asked, placing two large, brown hands on her waist, as if daring Scarlett to rebuke her. Scarlett looked up, and laughed. Oh, how easy it would be to pretend loving him with everyone thinking she was infatuated with him.

"Why, Mammy! You hush! I don't care a single thing about that silly Ashley and you know it!" Her voice was full of happiness, but she made her head turn sideways as if hiding her tears. Mammy's eyes softened and she rebuked Mist' Ashley in her mind for not even considering such a fine gal like her Miss Scarlett. Though, Mammy thought, she wouldn't dare let that queer Wilkes marry her lamb. Why, Scarlett needed someone vigorous and alive, like her! That book reading, poetry loving, outlandish music listening Wilkes wouldn't do a single thing for her Scarlett!

"Now, chile, Ah know how much you love Mist' Ashley, but he ain't good nuff for you! He's not lak us, wid his book readin' and listen' to his st'ange music an' nonsense! You gotter find a man lak Mist' Gerald! So doan you go cryin' o'er him, lam'! You gonner find the righ' man soon, honey, jus you wait." And Mammy stood proudly with her speech, because she knew no man was greater than Mist' Gerald, whom she served faithfully after Ellen's marriage to him.

"Yes, Mammy," Scarlett replied, but she tried to think of a way to be her impertinent self. "Why, did you see this Melanie Hamilton he's going to marry, Mammy?" She picked up a forkful of ham and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly.

"Yes'm, Ah sure did! She's lak a bird, Miss Scarlett! Look lak she's gonner fall o'er in a minute! She ain' strong lookin' lak you, chile! An' looks as plain as a weed in a meadoh."

"She's strong in heart," Scarlett muttered, placing another forkful of ham into her mouth, appraising Melanie. The words were spoken in automatic, careless defense, and only after did Scarlett realize her mistake.

"Wut dat chile?" Mammy stared at her Miss Scarlett curiously. She was for sure that Scarlett would join in to pick at Miss Melanie. Looking up, the green eyed belle looked at the darkie innocently beneath her lashes.

"Oh, nothing," Scarlett said coyly, and began moving on to the buckwheat cakes, drizzled with syrup. Mammy eyed her once more before shuffling out the door.

"Now you finish dat tray, Miss Scarlett, and Ah come gets you w'en the car'age comes." And Mammy added warningly, "Dat tray better be finished w'en I come up, chile, or you ain' goin'." Scarlett pouted, trying to look as disappointed as she could, and the darkie looked relieved to see Scarlett was back to normal. As Mammy closed the door behind her, Scarlett resumed to the demure facial expression she was so used to. It was a tire to be so spirited at every single thing one said, and Scarlett wondered how she did it so long ago.

"No matter! I have the key to all my problems," Scarlett whispered fervently, and the modesty of the thirty-two year old was slowly weakened with the anticipation, and anxiety, of attending her first barbecue in so many years.

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Ah, and thus ends chapter three. I hope it wasn't such a bore to you all, but I don't want to cram so much into one chapter. The chapters will be happening in chronological order of the novel, unless I decide to add something different into the story to give it some zest. ;)

Please review!


	5. Down the Yellow Brick Road

Hugs and kisses to **SassyAni, edward-mountain-is-so-real, PrincessAlicia, KattieScarlett, BlaqueCat13, Scarlett Jaimie, Michelle, FranklyMyDear28, bloodymary2** for reviewing this story!!! Thanks so much!!

Now, is Scarlett destitute? I'll come up with an excuse for that later...But thanks for pointing out the flaw. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone With The Wind.

Overall Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

Prologue: Thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from a horrid nightmare that reminds her of her lost lover. Crying, she says she wishes to be sixteen again to be a better wife to Rhett Butler, her one love. A majestic and powerful voice promises her that when she wakes up the next day, she will be sixteen. And now, Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from her slumber...

Chapter One: After reuniting with her once deceased Mammy and Ellen O'Hara, Scarlett is comforted by her mother's embrace, who does not fail to notice the tired and worn out look of her lively daughter. Her mother reminds her today is the Twelve Oaks barbecue and Scarlett goes back to her room to remember the day that started her wretched love story...

Chapter Two: In her bedroom, Scarlett reminisces on Twelve Oaks, and remembers three people who she loves very much, though each in a different manner. She realizes she is no longer a vivacious belle who captured Rhett's heart, and is set to become one before the barbecue. But will it work?

Chapter Three: Scarlett gets into her dress which is far more respectable than the one she wore last time. Mammy comes up with a tray of food, which Scarlett eats obligingly, and Mammy is both worried and suspicious. But Scarlett's charms work well, and all is better. The carriage is coming soon to pick her up, and Scarlett's never been so excited.

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Down the red road, an elegant black carriage, pulled by two, fine, brown horses, their hoofs clapping the ground in a rhythmic beat, was occupied by the O'Hara girls. Mother and Mammy were left at home from the business named Jonas Wilkerson needing atonement for. Gerald O'Hara, who was slightly red from the over-drinking brandy, rode in front of them on a handsome, black stallion. A cloud of crimson dust followed his path, as well as the carriage belonging to the girls.

The moment Scarlett had seen her father so familiarly flushed, yet exuberant from the brandy, the faint smell of fine, expensive cigarettes and well-bred horses on his clothes, she had cried out in surprise at the sight. Ever since the death of Ellen O'Hara, her father had never quite been himself, refusing to believe his wife to be dead and always demanding they wait for her at dinner. It took time for Scarlett to be able to coax her father with lies and not run out of the dining room with tears. Her strong, valiant, kindhearted father reduced to- to a jumble of messes in the mind; Scarlett never grew accustomed to it.

But seeing her father, healthy and singing in his loud, giddy voice, "Peg in a Low-backed Car," as he came through the door was a sight Scarlett was overjoyed to see. She ran down to him, throwing two arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek in affection. With large hands, her father cupped her cheeks, proclaiming proudly he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Scarlett laughed, feeling her eyes give a spark, and linking her arm with his, she walked down to the carriage with him in delight, where her father, like the gentleman he was, took her hand as she went in, joining her sisters.

When she was younger- well, younger than her thirty-two years- Scarlett resented her sisters, thinking them as nuisances; Suellen especially was unbearable. But with her return at Tara, more mature and distinct in manners and serenity, Scarlett's eyes had seen a different side of her siblings. Suellen, with her marriage to Will Beenten, grew out of her childish whines and complaints to become an affectionate mother and sister. Her resentment towards Scarlett for stealing her beau, Frank Kennedy, weakened over time, and she was more the glad to be reunited with her elder sister.

Careen, her baby sister, her darling little Sissy- though physically she was in her late twenties, her eyes and manners held a modest dignity and wisdom that was far beyond her years. So sedate Careen was, with a soft, feathery voice, and it reminded Scarlett all too much of her mother. Sissy held true to her words and did become, shockingly to Scarlett, a nun. The memory of Brent Tarleton never faded from her heart, and she gave herself up to the service of God.

With the so radical changes that bestowed unto her sisters, Scarlett had no contempt for them; only in her heart was affection and love. She felt, with their mother gone, that as their eldest sister, to be as motherly as she could be to them without crossing any boundaries. And the bond between the three, the bond which was once so weak and fragile, grew stronger over time.

Scarlett stared contently out the window, her apple-green eyes taking in the scenery- oh, how high the trees were, how beautiful the flowers had bloomed, how alive it looked from 1877! There was no single square foot of land that was ashen and burnt that would have to be waited decades for to farm in again. The cotton, the yams, the corn- how everything grew so lushly! Her eyes were ravenous for the sight of springing, green land, as the Irish blood in her so cared for about.

Susan Elinor, or Suellen, as she was better known, sat on the other side of the carriage with Caroline Irene, or Careen. Suellen was still sulking in her lovely pink dress, her bottom lip jutted out in agitation from prompt refusal of wearing Scarlett's green silk dancing frock. She still thought she would look much better in it than Scarlett, though the pink really did liven up Suellen's plain face.

Careen, however, happy with whatever dress she was allowed to wear, seeing how getting any beaux would come years later, stared curiously at her older sister's silence. Scarlett always talked animatedly during the carriage ride to any sort of social event, and it brightened up Careen, who, as the sweet, naïve child she was, admired it. A soft smile spread across Scarlett's face, dimples appearing on both sides, and it was a tender look Careen had never seen before in her sister. Suellen noticed the cheerful expression immediately, and still sour, said, "I don't see why you're so happy this morning. You know very well that Ashley's engagement is to be announced tonight! Pa said so this morning. And I know you've sweet on him for months." Then, proud at her remark, she held her head up high, tossing her hair behind her.

"Oh, shush Sue. You know it's not polite to intrude in the business of others," Scarlett replied airily, and Suellen had the faintest feeling of those words being like a scolding from Mammy or Ellen. Bristling up, the middle O'Hara daughter opened her mouth to retort back when Careen spoke.

"Oh, Susie, you know that's not true!" She protested, "Scarlett could never be sweet on Ashley! Brent's the one Scarlett cares about." Sympathetic eyes turned to Careen from Scarlett; there was one person Careen was most similar to in Scarlett's mind, and that was Melanie Wilkes. Never had she seen such sweet, honest words come from the girl that loved Scarlett's assumed beau.

Brent Tarleton was the utter attention of affection from Careen, and, with unwillingness, Scarlett remembered the empty, soulless eyes of her baby sister that remained for months when Brent had died. And though she did become a nun, Scarlett grudgingly admitted the job suited Careen well. With a heart as big as Careen's, ears that listened devotedly to confessions, and a mouth that spoke rightly of the words of God, bringing comfort to all, the world should be thankful that such people were made to be nuns.

"Darling, I don't care more for Brent than a sister does to her brother," Scarlett said, and her green eyes met Careen's. There was an emotion of understanding in them, followed by tender love and- quite strangely, the faintest hints of remorse and pity. "And when you get old enough, I'm sure he'll become your beau." Astonished by the deep depths of emotion of her eldest sister's eyes, Careen nodded, moving her eyes downcast to her lap. Her cheeks, however, tinged a rosy pink from pleasure at the words.

Suellen turned on her sister, "Why, Scarlett! You know Mother said Sissy's too young to think about having any beaux yet! And there you go, putting these silly ideas in her head."

"I'll talk to Sissy about whatever I want, Sue, so go and tattle to Mother. If she's going to learn about them soon, she might as well know now," came the words from a composed Scarlett. Suellen, baffled, for she had been expecting some offensive remark on her facial features, quieted. Her sister had never been so puzzling as today; the air around her didn't seem so lively as usual, and Scarlett's demeanor reminded her slightly of a regal lady.

"Now you three gals be keeping civil tongues with each other, lest I be taking my crop to you," Gerald warned in front of them, and the girls crossed a identical look of surprise. They hadn't meant to be so loud to be overheard by their father. "Is that wheels I be hearing? 'Tis the Tarletons or the Fontaines!" And surely enough, as the horses clopped closer to the intersecting road that came down from Mimosa and Fairhill, Scarlett, as well as her sisters, caught the sound of hooves and carriage wheels accompanied by the squeals and shrieks of feminine voices. How acute her father's ears were to hear such quiet noises over the clamor of his daughter's voices and horses.

"Ah, 'tis the Tarletons- and ladies only, I see. And Mrs. Tarleton be at the reins herself!" Gerald announced loudly, as his eyes caught sight of the flaming-red hair, "Now, there's a woman with fine hands for a horse! Feather light and strong as rawhide, and pretty enough to kiss at that. It be a pity that none of you gals have such hands." From his horse, he turned his head back at them, casting them a scold with his mouth, but affection with his eyes. Then he turned forward, appraising his daughters, "With Careen scared of the poor creatures and Sue with hands like a fish in air with the reins, that leaves you, Puss, but even then,-"

"Well, at any rate, I've never been thrown off from any of the horses," Scarlett protested, rather offended her father thought so low of her skills with horses, "And Mrs. Tarleton takes a fall at every hunt!"

"And she breaks a collar bone like a man," Gerald said, nodding in approval, "No fainting or fussing, like you ladies would be. Now no more talk of this, for she's coming." He stood up boldly in his stirrups, taking his hat off with a graceful sweep, and managed to even bend for a bow as the Tarleton carriage came trotting along, filled to the brim with girls in bright, bulbous dresses and parasols, held delicately with mitten covered hands, and veils that flew behind them with the wind. Mrs. Tarleton sat on the box; it was only practical of her to- with her four daughters, their mammy, and the ball dresses in large cardboard boxes crowding the carriage, they couldn't afford to have another in with them.

And, of course, there was the fact that Beatrice Tarleton commanded her darling horses, permitting no white or darkie to hold the reins- unless forced. Her love was horses, and there was no other man in the County that could beat her knowledge and handling. The horses held a certain charm for red-haired women of the name Beatrice Tarleton, and even the unruliest of stallions fell for her after she coaxed them. When the ladies crowded in the Tarleton carriage saw Gerald and the girls behind him, they leaned out dangerously, waving parasols and giving loud, welcoming cries.

As Gerald cried, "That's a fine bevy, Ma'm, but it's far they'll go to beat their mother," to Mrs. Tarleton, who only replied with an exaggerated parody of appreciation, one that belittled the looks well-played by southern ladies. Scarlett paid no heed, uninterested at listening to a repeating conversation. Her eyes traveled back to the vegetation around them, and there they stayed until the silence could bear Suellen no longer.

"Scarlett, you're awfully quiet today," she remarked, half from boredom, but the other half with sisterly concern, "And it isn't like yourself at all. You're not even smiling, either- you look too- too-, oh, I don't know-"

Careen, seeing the ineloquent stuttering of her sister, joined in to speak her thoughts. "Yes," she said, agreeing with a nod of her head, "It's very intimidating, in a way. Are you alright, Scarlett? You're not catching a fever, are you?" Her voice was a quiet, melodic one, soft to even the sharpest of words, making them sound like flowing water. It was unlike Suellen's whose blunt and cutting voice made her speech short and brisk.

She was rather taken aback at her sister's concern, and answered with unconcealed surprise, "I'm perfectly fine. It's just- I suppose I don't have anything to say." Her younger sisters looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

"Not having anything to say-!"

"Why, this certainly can't be coming from our Scarlett! You talk more than Mammy can reel out her snide comments on the darkies!"

"You shouldn't say such things about Mammy, Susie! She takes care of us so well! But yes, Scarlett, you always have something to say. We rather depend on you to talk."

"Well if you want be to talk so badly, then I will," she said crossly, and her sisters beamed inwardly to see Scarlett back to normal, "Did you hear-" but Scarlett was at a loss for words; she knew everything that was going on, knew everything that would happen, and the only thing she could mention was past topics. It was a bore, but if it gave comfort to her sisters, then she would talk. But then an idea crossed her mind. "Did you hear about the most unrecieved man in all of Georgia?" Scarlett knew that was an exaggeration, though, seeing his reputation, it wouldn't be hard to believe.

"Oh my! Most unrecieved? Who? Who?" Her sisters cried with curiosity, and they were thankful that their father was too engaged in his conversation to hear them talk about such unladylike things.

"He goes by the name Rhett Butler," Scarlett proclaimed, "And there's so many nasty rumors that go about him. Oh- I shouldn't tell you two, you're so young-" The storytelling amused her greatly, and she enough about Rhett to last talking for a lifetime.

"No, do tell Scarlett! Please! We won't speak a word to Pa!"

"Yes, do tell! I'm old enough- thirteen isn't such a young age!"

And laughing at her sister's protests, Scarlett went on, "He has the most horrible reputation- he comes from one of the nicest families in Charleston, but they won't even speak a single word to him except his mother." Her sisters gasped, reveling backwards into the carriage seats. "He was expelled from West Point- and, well- then there's the business about the girl he refused to marry." She paused for effect, lips trying to stifle a smile that would show her amusement, as her sisters leaned forward in anticipation. "Rumor says, he took a Charleston girl out buggy riding. She stayed out with him in the late afternoon without a chaperon. And, the worst part- the two of them stayed out nearly all night, and they walked the way home. They said the horse had run away and smashed the buggy, and they got terribly lost in the woods. The next day, he refused to marry her." Careen and Suellen gasped in horror, their innocent minds speculating at the possibilities.

"No, he- he didn't!" Careen cried, "How could he not? What a-a inconsiderate gesture to his family! And the girl, oh, that poor girl!"

"Oh, Heavens above, I would simply die if that happened to me. The nerve of him not marrying her," Suellen shuddered at the thought, and with a curious look aimed at Scarlett, "I bet that girl's reputation was in shambles, correct?" Scarlett nodded in affirmative.

"He said that they hadn't- well, hadn't done anything," -Careen's cheeks flushed red- "And didn't see any reason to marry her. The girl's brother called him out, and Rhett said he'd rather be shot than marry a stupid fool. Quite insulting. They fought a duel, and Rhett had to leave Charleston, so now nobody dares to receive him."

"Oh dear, how scandalous," Suellen commented, and turned her head to see the still on-going conversation between her father and Mrs. Tarleton. "Can we please pick up the pace a little? I do want to get to the barbecue before I freckle." The coachman nodded, and struck at the reins. The horses gave out a neigh before galloping along ahead of their father. With only a little more of the red road to go before the arrival at Twelve Oaks, Scarlett's heart sped up in anxiety. Oh, how she wanted her mother's shoulder to lean on at times like this!

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Up next: the Twelve Oaks BBQ (which, due to it's horrendously long length, will be separated into chapters.) and our beloved Rhett Butler!!! Three cheers for his long awaited arrival!

I think this is the longest chapter I've written. O.O;;

And that be the end of Chapter 4!

Please Review! :)


	6. Into the Fire

Thank you SO MUCH to** Princess Alicia, gussiegal5, ChlarkForever84, SassyAni, Hepzibah Smith, edward-mountain-is-so-real, jade vert, KattieScarlett, Indy's Lady, Scarlett Jaimie, bloodymary2, EugeniaVictoria, BlaqueCat13, Laura Butler, dorme99, glinda27, Ralph-de-Bricassart-fan, Milli1302** for reviewing this story!!! I really do appreciate all the comments! :)

So, a lot of you mentioned that the chapters were too short. I'll try to make them longer, and put more events into them, and make them more interesting, so please bear with me. I'll also try to update a bit faster, but that'll only happen next week because I go to after school til 6:30. Also, I'm trying to focus on my studies, so if I can't update fast, I'm sorry!

I have no idea how long I'm going to make this story, so yeah.

On horses and Bonnie, I guess she was just too excited to remember, but she will remember soon.

I suppose knowing what will happen and reliving through them is dreadful, but Scarlett has enough determination and will to change what she wants using that knowledge.

Ralph-de-Bricassart-fan, FEEL BETTER!! :) I have to look that up too. I have a lot to read now, so thanks. :D

Suellen has also drove me bananas. She can be really annoying! :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone With The Wind.

Overall Summary: Given a second chance with Rhett and making amends, thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara finds herself trapped in her sixteen year old body. How can she find the passion for life Rhett so adored in her to charm him again?

Prologue: Thirty-two year old Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from a horrid nightmare that reminds her of her lost lover. Crying, she says she wishes to be sixteen again to be a better wife to Rhett Butler, her one love. A majestic and powerful voice promises her that when she wakes up the next day, she will be sixteen. And now, Scarlett O'Hara wakes up from her slumber...

Chapter One: After reuniting with her once deceased Mammy and Ellen O'Hara, Scarlett is comforted by her mother's embrace, who does not fail to notice the tired and worn out look of her lively daughter. Her mother reminds her today is the Twelve Oaks barbecue and Scarlett goes back to her room to remember the day that started her wretched love story...

Chapter Two: In her bedroom, Scarlett reminisces on Twelve Oaks, and remembers three people who she loves very much, though each in a different manner. She realizes she is no longer a vivacious belle who captured Rhett's heart, and is set to become one before the barbecue. But will it work?

Chapter Three: Scarlett gets into her dress which is far more respectable than the one she wore last time. Mammy comes up with a tray of food, which Scarlett eats obligingly, and Mammy is both worried and suspicious. But Scarlett's charms work well, and all is better. The carriage is coming soon to pick her up, and Scarlett's never been so excited.

Chapter Four: Happily reunited with her no longer Ellen haunted father, Scarlett is overjoyed. The carriage ride to Twelve Oaks was too still for her sisters, and as their father talked with Mrs. Tarleton, Scarlett, in an attempt to regain her normal self, provided information on a certain rascal.

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Oh, how long it had been seeing Twelve Oaks so bustling and without ashes! Scarlett marveled at the sight, eyes feasting over the charming white house and its tall, towering columns, wide verandas, and flat roof. Her nose caught the scent of the mingling odors of burning hickory logs and roasting pork and mutton. A hand unconsciously went to her stomach, full with food, and she inwardly scorned herself for eating so much at home. No matter, Scarlett thought grimly, I'll have to work myself up for an appetite.

The broad, spacious driveway that curved like a swan's neck was packed with saddled horses and carriages. Voices were producing welcoming shouts of endearments to spotted friends. Excitement seemed contagious, as the negroes, mouth spread to wide grins, led the animals to the barnyard to roam freely. The O'Hara carriage pulled up at the front steps, catching a full view of the inside of the Twelve Oaks home; the carved oak double doors opened wide to give guests the sight of brightly dressed girls walking with hands around each other's waists, gentlemen standing, engaging in conversations, and the wide hall that extended from the front of the house to the back bustling with people.

As Scarlett's eyes roamed across the house, she saw her two most favorite Tarleton boys leaning against the tall, ivory columns before straightening up at the sight of her. She gave a cry of delight upon seeing them; how long had it been without them sitting on Tara's porch with her? Oh, how she had missed them so! From their fiery, red hair to their sun-burned faces; the six foot two inch stature that easily towered over her petite height to the arrogance that danced in their cheery eyes; and- how could she forget?- the air of tumult and trouble that came along with their humorous nature and shenanigans.

The boys waved enthusiastically from where they stood, and Scarlett only happily returned the gesture. Then, on the porch steps, she saw once more two familiar faces- one which she cherished, and the other she didn't really give a damn for. John Wilkes, whose impromptu death caused great grievance in all, stood with dignified grace next to his daughter, Honey. She hadn't changed one bit, from the widely spaced, lash-less eyes to long, aquiline nose, and small mouth. Perhaps Honey would have made a beautiful rabbit, if she were born one in a different world and time, but as a human, the rabbit-esque face did her no good to make her appeal to any male human.

She was a giggling, red-faced mess as she greeted all the boys affectionately, with no grace or eloquence in speech. Even at thirty-two, Scarlett made a visible shudder at the sight of Honey's pathetic charm. It was forthrightly obvious that she was trying, as best as she could but with no avail, to be the object of utter desire to all the gentleman population attending the barbecue. It was a disgusting sight that showed Honey's lack of cultivated allure- most likely from all the book reading, Scarlett thought.

And it did no good but remind her of the "fast" image she produced of herself in order to grab Ashley Wilke's attention- and Rhett Butler's as well. Thus, the once calm mind of Scarlett O'Hara, which was happily focused on reuniting with the Tarleton twins, burst into calamity from recollection. The mental chaos was apparent, shown in the distressed, emerald eyes that darted back and forth, the sudden jerk backwards into her seat from an all too sudden realization, and her sisters turned their heads to her in surprise.

"Scarlett, are you all right? You look distressed," Careen noted, staring curiously at her sister.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She threw them a charming smile to ward off any more comments, and Careen nodded, looking away, though still worried. She could tell when her older sister wanted them to stop pestering her, and as much as she wanted to fuss over Scarlett in concern, Careen willingly obliged to toss the matter aside. Suellen, looking once with deep suspicion and alarm at Scarlett, turned her head when she caught sight of Frank Kennedy, lips curling to a smirk.

How could she have forgotten such a thing like that? An agitated groan left Scarlett's lips, and she sank back into her seat in grief, a milky-white hand raised to push back the falling black locks that covered her face from the movement. She had no time to think about it, however, as the Tarleton twins, watching Mr. Kennedy assist Suellen off the carriage, were inspired to do the same. As she saw them both standing on opposite sides of the steps, Scarlett reluctantly pulled herself together, and parting her lips onto what she hoped looked like one of her famous dimpled smiles, got up.

Both of Brent and Stuart's arms were out, and in mind, they had in plan that Scarlett take one of her delicate, alabaster hands in each. Scarlett, as she stood standing, thought of Careen, who evidently would be helped by John Wilkes, as he was standing near the carriage to do so, and with this in mind, she looked at Brent with fluttering eyes, peeking at him under her lashes. "Brent, it's so kind of you to help me," Scarlett said, widening her smile , "But poor Careen can't get off by herself. Would you be a dear and help her?" Rather startled by the sudden request, Brent gave a reluctant nod, eyes bewildered. Holding his arm out to the blushing Careen, who was praising her sister inside, Scarlett tugged Stuart, who was even more bewildered than Brent at the fact that she wasn't waiting for his brother, to the porch.

"Why Scarlett!" came the pleasant voice of Dimity Munroe, "How nice it is to see you again! I simply do love that dress on you- it's beautiful!" Her sisters added to the compliment, remarking on its fine tailoring and material, the way her eyes looked so stunning, and Scarlett could only smile and give a compliment back. Time has not changed much on Scarlett's opinion of women, though the list of those she liked grew longer as she blossomed into adulthood- but not much longer; after all, she only did start out with one woman on it, and that was her very own mother. She did not realize, back then and even now, that her attitude towards women was one that was remarkably similar to Rhett's. Only few women did Rhett truly appreciate and respect, as the same with Scarlett.

But sentimentality and age weakened her cold judgment on women, and, hesitantly, did she lessen the catty comments, the contempt, the dislike on her sex. It would never fully disappear, however, as remaining an integral part of who Scarlett was, and with the long absence of women in her life- time had long passed since the attendance of any social events, due to managing Tara and her children- it would only increase. "Oh, Dimity, you flatter," she replied with equal pleasantness, "This drab is nothing compared to yours! Yellow looks lovely on you, dear. Sally! My, what a dress that is! It's beautiful!" It certainly was: a rose tunic dress, petticoat of white satin drawn into diamond-shaped puffs by crossings of currant-colored taffeta, with a fall of ruffled sleeves. Sally laughed, tipping her head back as she was accustomed to, though her mother fretted upon how unladylike it was, and took in the comment happily.

"Well, now, I certainly do have to agree with that," she said, triggering a peal of laughter from the ladies around her. Though, through the laughter, all three Munroe girls were curious to the peculiar nature of Scarlett O'Hara. No girl, with the exception of Cathleen Calvert, liked Scarlett, and it was mostly due to her way with boys. At social events, she was rarely seen with females, preferring the company of her beaux. And if, God forbid, she would allow herself to be around her "girl friends," she was none the enjoyable to be with. She was a constant flirt, an audacious spirit, daring to steal other beau simply because she could and showed it off, an attention starved child- no girl in the County thought of Scarlett well.

And now, speaking such charming words in front of the Munroe's, being affable and pleasant, it was a sight they had rarely seen from the girl. They took into mind the possibility of a personality change, or being one of her ploys to get their men. Whatever the case may be, the Munroe girls preferred this side of Scarlett.

Scarlett was not unaware of the thoughts going on in their heads; the eyes spoke all, from the confusion to suspicion, and she had childish contempt for them, for their hard, unmoving hearts that were unwilling to just accept her. Then the wiser mind interfered, defending them, and seeing both sides of the argument, it faded grudgingly. The process reminded her of Ashley, whose thoughts put into consideration of all.

Ashley! Her mind pulled her back into the first time she experienced the Twelve Oaks barbecue. She saw the swarm of people around her, voices so loud and she was peering over them, looking for Ashley to speak to, and she could feel her mind pulsating with annoyance. It flashed next to the Tarleton boys next to her, towering over her, and then a wide, elegant stairway.

Her eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, and just like the memory, she saw the two Tarleton twins standing near her with both irritation and relief in their eyes; irritation from the bustling crowd that refused their time with Scarlett, and relief they managed to get her away from said crowd for a moment. But the relief was short as Scarlett, who spoke from a memory, "I must run upstairs and smooth my hair. You boys wait for me and don't run off with any other girl or I'll be furious." And throwing them a dimpled smile, she turned, unaware of the coal-black eyes that followed her every move.

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Yay! Chapter 5 complete! The next chapter will be entirely on Rhett and his impression of Scarlett.

Please review! ;D


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